Sempervirent
by Ms. Snape
Summary: "Evergreen:" Severus Snape is not one who likes change, in fact, he avoids it. But the occurance at the Tri-Wizard tournament has shaken his neatly built world. Now just in how many ways will his life be altered?
1. Tea for Two

The Author's Ramblings:  Snape is of course my favorite character and he is the one that I love to read about most, however, when it comes to romance and our dear Potion's Professor, I really do not know what to think.  I had some ideas for a Snape romance, but none ever seemed to click.  Then, after reading my other works, I had several people tell me, "Why not a Snape romance?" I said I'd never do one. Now I put my foot in my mouth as I attempt to tackle this. (This is what happens when you go on a writing binge and ignore all the more important things in life.) My goal is to let Severus stay in character and be himself and take this wherever he wants to go. (So it just may go nowhere at all.)  I may be tackling the impossible. We shall see.  This takes place in tandem with "The Staff of Orkney," my other big story on FanFiction.net but you do not need to read it to understand this, though it may be interesting to witness what Harry sees as opposed to what Snape experiences.  Harry and Co. take a back seat in this while in "The Staff" they are front and center.

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to J. K. Rowling and Warner Bros. The author does not claim or imply the rights to any item related nor belonging to the Harry Potter universe.

Summary: This starts a few days after the night Voldemort came back in book four.  So it actually begins during the end, as the students are not yet out. Snape and another professor have a "ritual." However, it is rudely interrupted, as he cannot ignore recent happenings.  I also will mention quickly who Salazar is since someone seemed confused in the review.  I am not speaking of Salazar Slytherin.  Salazar can be a perfectly good name to bestow upon a proud Slytherin family's son.  Salazar Snape is a distant relation to Severus who got his hands dirty during Voldemort's previous reign and who since then has been job hopping around Canada, the U.S., and Eastern Europe.  For the past 10 years he has been situated at Durmstrang as Quidditch coach and Potions professor.  He is mentally unstable and a recovering alcoholic. And while Severus tends to show disgust for his only living relative, they were really quite fond of each other while in school.  But this story isn't about Salazar, it's about Snape.  Salazar just makes an entrance to help further shake down the little isolated world Severus has so painstakingly built over the past thirteen years. And as for the romance…that has nothing to do with Salazar at all.  It's between Sev and someone he's known since his childhood. So, without further ado, it starts…

Chapter I

Tea for Two

The table was already clean, but Severus Snape wiped it down with a damp towel, just to be sure before setting out the mismatched china.  He wasn't much for setting the table correctly, and he hardly ever had to, just every-other Friday when tea was at his apartment.  It was a weekly ritual to have tea with Professor Sinistra.  They would munch on some sandwiches, drink tea, and grumble about the week while grading parchments or writing out lessons plans.

As he studied a spot on one of the spoons and took it to the drawer to replace it, he thought about how these Friday teas had started.  It had been eleven years ago—or had it been twelve? It had been when Professor Sinistra first came to teach.  

He had only been teaching for a year when he had been informed that an old schoolmate had been offered the Astronomy position.  Naturally, he had volunteered to help move her into her apartment.  If he remembered correctly, he might have still been recalling the last two years he had been in school and still might have had some old feelings for her, but he couldn't remember.  Actually, he doubted it.  At twenty-seven his experience as a Death Eater was still fresh and vivid and his victims hardly cold in their graves. Any happiness seemed like a disrespect to all those who had been hurt by Voldemort…by him.  But he had still been twenty-seven and she had been twenty-five: both still very young. Yet he had been a kid with blood on his hands…he shook his head.  Memories were painful.

Severus looked at his reflection on the back of the spoon he was holding.  It was no wonder why everyone avoided him. He had looked scary enough when had begun teaching at twenty-six, but now… Albus Dumbledore and Florence Sinistra seemed to be the only two people capable of tolerating him.  That was probably why he continued these teas, week after week and year after year.  It was the only time he could be sure to have a decent conversation with another human being, and deep down they kept him from feeling completely alone.

A rap on the door brought him out of his dark musings.  He placed the spoon down on a napkin, next to a fork, and headed to the door.

Florence had her arms full. Books were stacked high enough that they tipped at an odd angle.  Severus supposed that she had used a charm to keep them from toppling over and on top of it all was a cardboard box full of parchments.  She always came to the teas with more work than she could ever possibly complete in an hour or two.

"Can I help you?" he asked, still holding the door.

"Oh, no, I've got it," she replied hastily and dumped the lot near a chair at the table.  She seated herself, rearranged the silverware, and started rummaging through the box of parchments while Severus closed the door and headed to the kitchen to get the hot water.  "I hate this week," she proclaimed as he poured hot water into a china teapot on the table.  He only half-listened for she repeated the same thing at the last week of every year.  "Sure, the students think it's wonderful, but honestly, letting them run amuck for a whole week while we are up to our eyeballs in grading.  It's absurd."

Severus silently agreed.  He allowed her to vent just as she did for him and neither of them ever said anything while the other was letting off their steam.  It was a nice arrangement.

He took two tea infusers off a shelf and dipped them into the tea box, handed one to Florence—or rather placed it in her tea cup as she was currently taking out her anger on the cork to her inkwell that didn't seem to want to budge—and let the other soak in his mug.  He found teacups to be silly; they reminded him of Sibyll Trelawny.  While the tea seeped, he brought his own stack of parchments to the table and graded in silence as Florence continued to complain about teacher expectations and conditions while splattering one paper with red ink.

"And this Miss Granger," she huffed, picking up an extraordinarily long piece of parchment.  "Doesn't she realize that her paper isn't the only one I have to read?"

Severus picked up a quarter of a vegemite sandwich and debated whether it was safe to make a comment.

"Frankly," Florence continued, "I've ceased reading her work."

"You've what?" This had taken him by surprise and he quickly swallowed the bite he had taken from the sandwich.

"She's an insufferable know-it-all.  I've never found anything wrong with her paper, and she thinks I have all the time in the world to read her regurgitation of the text, so I just simply stopped reading.  I only skim it over to make sure she didn't hand in her Transfiguration homework to me by mistake, but other than that, I knock off a few points for being irritating and let her have the highest mark in the class."

Severus put down his sandwich. Now why hadn't he thought of that? "She'll get something wrong someday—she has to." This was a fact, a fact that he was determined to prove before that bothersome girl left these halls.

Florence let out a sigh and placed her quill back into the red inkwell.  "I suppose that I shouldn't be so frustrated with them."  This wasn't an ordinary thing for her to say, but then these weren't ordinary times, though Severus had hoped that at least the teas could remain so.  "You haven't spoken a word, Severus." Her words were filled with concern as they left her strict, uniformly thin mouth.  Her steel gray eyes were staring at the hole that he had punched through a paper napkin. "Not a word about what happened last week, but then again, I suppose you don't want to discuss it.  That he's back…"

No, Severus didn't want to discuss it.  In fact, he had been avoiding the subject like one of Rubeus Hagrid's blast-ended screwts.  Why had Florence brought it up? She knew he didn't want to talk about it and she was normally very good at knowing the things he didn't want to talk about and holding her tongue about them.  So why had she brought this up?

"Are you going to continue teaching?" she asked at last.

Severus lifted his head and stared at her sharp-edged features.  She had an incredibly small nose for such a long face and her dark brown hair and thick eyebrows didn't help the shadows under her eyes.  "Of course I'm going to continue teaching." It wasn't like he had too many options.  He wasn't the type to be so eagerly hired.

There he went trying to change the subject again.  "I'm perfectly fine teaching here, why would I want to change?"

"You know what I mean," and Florence lifted her cup and took a sip.  She set it down softly, reverently, into the saucer.  "He's back and you helped Dumbledore before, and you're going to have to help again."

"I don't have to," Snape shot out quickly.  This was probably the first time that he was actually becoming frustrated at tea.  "It's just that I should."

He began to think back to that night: the way everyone had panicked when Potter and Diggory had disappeared with the Tri-Wizard Cup, and he had known more than anyone what was happening as the Dark Mark had again gone black and seared his arm, and of the crowd that had gathered around the two boys when they had returned.  It still made him shiver at the way Potter had suddenly began ticking off names of Death Eaters before Fudge, for he had been still hoping that something else had happened.  But no, it was real and it was happening all over again.  He closed his eyes as he remembered going back that night to the Malfoy Manor to speak with Lucius, testing out the waters to see how he might be welcomed back into Voldemort's circle, if he would be welcomed back at all.  He still didn't know.  The hole punched into his napkin was now much larger.  In fact, he had mutilated the napkin.

The clock on a nearby mantel ticked loudly.

Florence picked up her quill pen and resumed grading papers.  "I am suspecting that you know much more than I do, but I will mention that I have been thinking about Mr. Harry Potter.  I still cannot believe that a fourth year student faced Voldemort and lived."  She said this like she would an afterthought, such as, "I need some more owl food at the store," but she wanted to make it an important statement but knew that Severus would never appreciate her to do so.

Severus picked up his mug of tea and began to drink, not noticing the infuser until the handle bumped into his nose causing tea to dribble down his chin.

Potter.

That simple word caused so many old sores to hurt. Ones that ran as deep as his first year at wizarding school.  Yes, he had to admit that he found it remarkable that Potter had gotten away from Voldemort.  Dumbledore had filled him in on some of the details that the boy had given about his encounter with the Dark Lord.  One had to admire someone with courage like that.  But why a Potter? Why did the Potters have to be involved again?  And Sirius Black… Dumbledore knew that they couldn't work together.  It had been horribly proved that Halloween night…

An owl swooped over the table, interrupting his train of thought.  It dropped a letter onto his plate, the corner stabbing into what was left of his sandwich.  Florence looked up briefly at it before finishing writing a comment she was making on a student's paper.

Carefully, he extracted the envelope from his food then tossed what was remaining of his sandwich at the owl.  He didn't see what was so important that it couldn't be delivered to his office—well, he could, but he didn't want to think about what that might be.  With a sick feeling he flipped the envelope over and saw the Malfoy family crest pressed into the red sealing wax.  He glanced over at Florence who knew enough to keep her head down at the moment and tore open the end of the envelope and slipped the letter out.  When he unfolded it, however, he was somewhat happy to note that the handwriting was not that of Lucius or Narcissa, though whose it was, didn't thrill him all that much either.  And what that person was doing sending letters from the Malfoy's had to be questioned.  He read:

_19-6-95_

_Dear Severus,_

_I know that it's been since Christmas last since I have owled you, but I have been extremely busy as Karkaroff left me running the school while he has been there with you at Hogwarts.  As you have probably already noticed from the seal on this letter, I have returned to Britain.  Karkaroff has disappeared for obvious reasons and so has been replaced as headmaster by some idiot.  In the Ministry's fear of the very rumor of him, the board of governors decided to dismiss anyone remotely linked to the events of thirteen years ago, (i.e. yours truly).  I am currently unemployed and with the rumors of his return, I have decided to come home.  _

_I don't expect Dumbledore to give me a warm welcome, but I think it is imperative that if you return to our previous line of work, that I accompany you.  You would be surprised at what is said here at the dinner table among Lucius' guests and I have already been informed that I would be warmly welcomed. (I have the excuse that I could not just Apparate from the Ural Mountains and join him for the evening.)  As for you, I have not heard good things, so if you decide to take up the duties we once had, you need me. Besides, I will not return if I'm working only for the Ministry.  I will only work for Dumbledore.  Find out what he thinks of me returning._

_If you decide to take this burden up once again, come see me.  Lucius is throwing a welcome home dinner for Draco next Friday.  I mentioned you, and you have been invited.  Lucius is still highly favored by him and with his help you can be accepted more smoothly.  Please let me know._

_Your cousin,_

_Sal_

Severus stared at the messy handwriting for some time before rereading the letter and then folding it and slipping it back into the envelope.  This tea was not going well.

"Can you pass me the plate of sandwiches?" Florence asked.  As she took a quarter of one off the plate, she added, "And who's the letter from?" 

She took a bite from the sandwich and appeared somewhat disinterested but Severus knew that she was very interested.  It drove him up the wall sometimes the way that she acted so subtle about things.  She seemed to know exactly how to extract information from him that he ordinarily wouldn't give.  The way she was chewing her sandwich at the moment seemed annoying as well.  There were times where he wanted to blurt out and inform her of exactly how irritating she could be, but then he knew she might say what she thought of him—and that would not be good.

"It's from Salazar," he said in the same off-handed manner.

"Salazar?" she poured herself some more hot water. "Why he hasn't been in Britain for over thirteen years."  Her tone was still that of someone remarking about the weather.

No, he hadn't stepped foot in Great Britain for thirteen years.  When one sees the inside of Azkaban for more than a day, they most likely aren't too willing to return too readily.

"So where's he staying?"  She had returned to her papers and was looking something up in a book.

"Lucius'." Severus let the tonality of the conversation slip to a dark tone. Florence caught on.

"They are still friends?"

"I suppose." The fact was, he didn't know but he feared it. Salazar and Lucius had been in the same class—two years behind Severus—and they had been inseparable. What had happened exactly when Severus and him had started working for Dumbledore, he had never quite found out. "But he's attempting to keep him close. You know the adage, 'keep your friends close but your enemies closer.'"

_What was he doing over at the Malfoys? And why didn't he bother to tell him first? _Severus had already begun to boil a pot.  Just another to add to his load of stress.

Voldemort was back. Oh, Merlin, he was back and with that came so many more troubles.

He studied the shreds of paper at the side of his plate that had once been recognizable as a napkin while Florence packed up her quill and parchments and just sat holding her teacup.  They said nothing for the longest time, each just trying to bore holes into the table with their eyes.  The clock on the mantel ticked on.

"I still can't believe he's returned," she said softly. 

Severus silently agreed.

A/N: So does this work?  Truthfully, I was ready to strangle Florence and Severus.  I knew that if anyone ever were to fall in love with Snape, she'd have to be just as unpleasant as the "Greasy Git." 


	2. Salazar

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to J. K. Rowling and Warner Bros. The author does not claim or imply the rights to any item related nor belonging to the Harry Potter universe.

Chapter II

Salazar

It was complete and utter chaos.  Students were running everywhere.  The only adult supervision seemed to be Hagrid who was too busy sniffling a good bye to Potter, Weasley, and Granger, to take notice of what was going on around him.  Snape had sworn not to get involved.  He was just going to get on the train in some empty compartment and ride it down to London where he would promptly board another to take him close enough to Apparate to the Malfoy's.  But this was too much for him to bear.

A group of Slytherin girls were busy harassing some Ravenclaw first year whose trunk had burst open and had decided to deal with the situation by crying loudly.  There was a commotion by one car as students came stumbling out with their robes pulled over their noses: a stink bomb, no doubt.  The sight of an identical pair of red heads fleeing the scene only seemed to confirm it.  Hissing and the sound of a fight occurring between two cats that had escaped their crates came from where the luggage was being loaded and then he caught a glimpse of two heads disappear behind the corner of a car: one male one female.

Out of frustration, Snape balled his fists.  He had promised himself that he was not going to play the professor.  School was out and he had had quite enough for one year.  However, he couldn't just ignore it.  It wasn't in his nature to allow his surroundings to get this out of hand.  Jamming his hand into a pocket of the simple summer robes he wore, he pulled out his wand, held it up in the air, and mumbled a spell that caused an explosion like fireworks rocket out of the tip and boom over the heads of the students.

Everyone stopped and soon all eyes were fixed on their Potions professor.

"All of you—get on the train _now_!"  His voice rang out almost as loudly as the explosion he had created from his wand.

There were some looks of surprise, others of loathing, and some of hurt as the students filed onto the cars.

"Ah, Professor Snape, I didn't know you were…" Hagrid said, clunking across the platform.

"Just one moment," Snape interrupted, and he jumped off the platform and over a car coupling.

Around the side of the car, he spotted the couple he had seen disappear earlier. They were Hufflepuff seventh years and neither the boy nor the girl seemed to have heard what had just occurred on the other side of the train.

"_Mister_ Stapleton and _Miss_ Ryan.  Will you please get on the train." That was an order, not a question and at the sound of Snape's voice, the two immediately unlocked their faces and dropped their hands.

"Oh, p-p-Professor, I didn't…" the boy stuttered, his ears turning bright red.

"_Now_," Snape commanded and before they could move, he had snatched both of them by the collar of their robes and was dragging them back to the platform.  He released the girl shortly, letting her scuttle under the coupling and dash up the stairs to the nearest car but he held firmly onto the boy.  It was rather surprising exactly how strong Snape's skinny little arms were for he was able to nearly throw the large Hufflepuff over the car coupling.

The boy made a move for the car that his girlfriend had boarded, but Snape stopped him. "Oh, no you don't. Contrary to popular belief, Mr. Stapleton, I _do_ know what two hormone driven teenagers like yourselves are capable of doing on a long train ride, and I will not have you two sitting together."  With that, he helped the boy up the stairs of a different car.

By now, a painful pressure had built up behind Severus' right eye.  He wondered if he had remembered to bring any headache powder. Considering that he was going to be riding for about eight hours on a train packed full with students, he thought he would have remembered.  But then again, he had been planning on finding an empty compartment where he could sit and read uninterrupted.  He lightly cussed himself out.  After twelve years of teaching he thought he would have remembered something so simple as headache powder.

"Severus?" All the students were now on the train and Hagrid had walked over. "Did Dumbledore send you over here?"

"No," Severus put his wand back into his robes, "I'm riding down to London on business." That was what this dinner tonight with Lucius was for: business. 

"So you're riding with the students?" 

Snape swore that he caught a snickering grin under Hagrid's bushy dark beard. "I'm not left with much choice, am I?"

"No." Hagrid was laughing.

Before Severus' headache got any worse, he decided to climb aboard the train and find some empty compartment for himself. Why did everyone—even other professors—find mirth in his misery with the ongoing battle he had with the students?  All he wanted was order. Was that too much to ask for? He had quickly learned in his first year of teaching—his first class—that without order, nothing got done.  He spotted the Weasley twins in one compartment that he passed by.  It had been in fact a Weasley that had taught him that.  His first class to teach had been Slytherin and Gryffindor first years, which included the infamous Charlie Weasley.  He wanted to shudder at the memory, for he also remembered his second class: that one had contained Bill Weasley.  It would be four more years before all of the Weasleys had passed through the Halls of Hogwarts.

As he passed by one compartment, he caught a glimpse of the Hufflepuff Stapleton's head, and he appeared to be busy with Miss Ryan once again.  They were like magnets!  Angrily, he rapped on the door, giving them a warning before opening it.  He did not want the embarrassment that he had had to deal with once before when breaking up two smitten students. They were staring at him in disbelief when he entered.

"Look, Professor," the boy said firmly. "We've graduated; we're of age wizards now."

The boy's attitude was annoying.  Snape had taught him for seven years and now that he had graduated, he felt that he could be as rude as he pleased. "Then I don't suppose you wouldn't mind if I sat in the same compartment with two 'of age wizards.'" Something inside him smiled maliciously as he sat down on the bench opposite them and proceeded to pull out a book.

The two Hufflepuffs looked at Snape then slyly at each other and started to playfully kiss.

"Though you may both have graduated," Snape informed while still staring at the pages of his book—they were both trying his patience, "I will inform you that you are still under the responsibility of the school until you get off this train in London.  In that case, you are still subject to following school rules, and obscene behavior such as you two have been displaying, is not permitted."

"Obscene behavior?" the girl choked.

"Showing affection for one another is not obscene," Stapleton argued defiantly.

"No, it's not," Snape agreed.  "But showing it to the extent you two are, is.  Imagine me as Miss Ryan's father, Mr. Stapleton, then make your judgment as to what is appropriate and what is not."

They no doubt really hated him now. But what were two more people in the world who hated Severus Snape going to mean?

Then, much to Snape's agitation, the boy decided to get smart, "What are you going to do? Give us detention? We've graduated."

"No," Snape replied as coolly as he could.  "As you have made it clear that you have graduated and are of age, and as I have pointed out, the minute you step off this train, you will no longer be my student.  Then, Mr. Stapleton, you will be an 'of age wizard' who has very unwisely decided to get on my bad side."

That shut him up.  He didn't feel afraid of saying it because he knew the boy enough to know he wouldn't take the argument any further.

*

Two very flustered Hufflepuffs got off the train mumbling something about "sexual frustration" shortly before Snape slipped his book in his robes and strode out.  Disembarking the train was somewhat more a civil ordeal as the students' parents awaited them on the platform. Still, he wanted to get away and started to head for other parts of the station.

"Professor!" He hadn't moved quickly enough.  He turned around with dread, but was relieved to find that it was a member of the railroad personnel that was flagging him down and not a parent.  "We have a problem, professor."  The man in the conductor's uniform had run up to him.  "Several students seem to have been hexed, sir.  We need your help to fix them."

Severus sighed through his nose and followed the conductor over to one of the cars.  Inside on the floor, sat three students clearly hit with more than a few hexes.  It took him a moment to recognize them to be Malfoy, Crabb, and Goyle.  He had no question as to who was to blame for this. _Great,_ he thought.  _I'm going over to the Malfoy's tonight and their son is going to have to have some lengthy de-hexing done to him.  Thank you ever so much, Potter and Weasley._ He withdrew his wand and started to mend the damage, hoping he could get the boys looking passable by the time Lucius, Narcissa, or the Crabbs or Goyles came aboard looking for their children.

"Oh, my poor boy!" Too late.  A husky, dark haired-witch leaned over his shoulder.

An even larger man grumped, "Dammit, Gregory.  How did you let someone do this to you?"

Mrs. Goyle was covering her mouth with her hand while her husband merely stood back and scowled, hands on hips.

"Here," Mr. Goyle said at last. "I'll take care of Gregory, you can work on fixing Draco and Vincent."

Severus was able to undo many of the jinxes to the point that the boys looked relatively like themselves before he decided to scoot off.  He had had quite enough for the day and was eager to get some time to his thoughts before he had to face his cousin and the Malfoys.  

Part of him wanted to see Salazar again, yet another part of him feared it.  The truth was, he was very afraid.  The one thing that scared him more than anything else, the one thing that was most painful, was the past.  With the return of Salazar, having dinner over at the Malfoys and the prospect of having to return to Voldemort's fold, it was the past returning.

For the past thirteen years he had been fighting his memories.  There wasn't a night that went by that he didn't take some dreamless sleep potion, scared of what he might see if he didn't.  Now all that he had worked so hard to try and forget, all the regrets that he had, were trampling down the road, beating a path straight to his door.

He walked through the crowds as if in a daydream, watching witches and wizards pass by, all blissfully going about their business.

Voldemort was back and he was one of the few who knew.  How much longer would the wizarding world keep up this charade, this denial?  Soon everything would be back as they once were thirteen years ago: obituaries taking up pages in the Daily Prophet: doubting and suspecting your own neighbor: young wizard volunteering to join the ranks of aurors only to have their lives cut short.  Now the only question remained was what part would Severus Snape play this time?  If Voldemort knew he had been a traitor, a spy, he would most likely not live long enough to find out.  He became aware of his own heart beating as he stepped through the crowd up to the ticket window.

"Sir?" 

He was suddenly aware that he was being spoken to.

"Are you all right sir?"

Severus blinked and stared at the man behind the ticket window. "Uh, yea…when's the next train to Wales?"

The man behind the ticket counter looked to be in his early twenties.  He wouldn't have been very old when Voldemort was last in power, but he looked old enough to have remembered it, especially if a family member had been killed, and there were few wizarding families that had not been affected in some degree. "There's one that leaves in an hour for Cardiff and there's still some seats. Will that do for you, sir?"

Severus nodded and pulled out a small leather change purse.

"Seven sickles."

Severus counted out the sickles and got his ticket.  Platform 2 ½.  Stepping away from the window, he began to make his way toward the proper platform.  He had an hour to kill, and he could go for something to eat at the Leaky Cauldron but that would require him to step out amongst the muggles: something that he avoided at all costs.  Instead, he opted to just buy something from a vendor and find a quiet bench to sit on and continue reading.  He was about to head over to a witch selling some warm crumpets when a shrill whinny echoed in the station.  Being led down a ramp off a nearby car, were two Magus Mares, which looked like horses in every respect except in the eyes.  They were far more intelligent than muggle horses and would look you straight in the eye.  As a child, Severus and his cousin had owned some and ridden with nearby children that they attended Hogwarts with, and he still admired the creatures so he turned to watch as a sleek black was pitching and bucking on the platform.  But then he spotted something far more interesting.

A wizard had stopped and was arguing with the man leading the horse.  He was tall and thin with long black hair and a high-bridged nose: a very Snape nose.  His robes had a definite Russian flare to them, complete with sash. All of these things made him stand out in a crowd, yet it was only one item that had caused Severus to take notice.  In his right hand, he was gripping a long, twisted piece of wood that ended with carved talons gripping a stone that glowed blue.  There was only one wizard known to currently carry a mage's staff: Salazar Snape. He was too busy at the moment streaming out a tirade to the railroad worker holding the horse to take notice of Severus, but Severus needed that time for there was something very odd: his cousin didn't look as if he had aged a day since he had seen him last.  

Sadly, Snape was reminded of a potion, one that he had concocted.  Evidently it still had effect.

Salazar had wrenched the lead-rope from the railroad employee and was leading the mare himself when he spotted Severus.  His eyes brightened and his scowl turned up into a smile.

"Severus!" he screamed loud enough for half the station to hear. "My God, Sev. You look positively horrible."

Severus cringed and looked around as people stared at him.  Perhaps, though, they were only staring the Magus Mare that was nervously snorting and striking its shod feet on the brick floor.

"Wow, it's been ten years, hasn't it?" Salazar continued stopping just in front of Severus.  "Good to see you too," he said after a bit.

"Oh, sorry…yes, it's good to see you, LeSal."  Severus had let his mind wander again as he stared at the young features that seemed to show nineteen or twenty on a thirty-six year-old man.  This was his fault, a potion gone awry—yet another item to put down on his little black list of regrets that were again going to stare him in the face.

"You've got to help me," he said at once.  "These dunderheads working here just don't know the first thing about Magus Mares.  They were supposed to move them over to a train headed for Cardiff, but haven't yet.  There's one leaving in an hour. Could you help me move them? I have one more."

Severus unexpectedly had the lead-rope shoved into his hands and found himself holding the black mare while LeSal hurried back the car and proceeded to grab the halter of a second mare.  While he waited, the mare he was holding stepped forward and put its head up against his arm then began rubbing its face, using Severus as some sort of scratching post.  Immediately, he pushed the animal away, yet something inside of him, a little boy whom he hadn't spoken to in years, made him want to take his arm and rub the mare on the forehead.  But he knew the dirt that was ground into the hair of horses and he did not want to get his arm filthy and smelling like a horse and he most definitely was not going to listen to the second urge that made him want to snatch the mare's mane in his hand and swing himself up onto its back.

What the hell was wrong with him? Letting his mind wander and entertaining boyhood fancies by getting sentimental about some smelly beast?  He better had watch it or he'd soon crack. Then again, Magus Mares weren't smelly.  They smelled like a horse, and he was rather fond of the dust and leather and sweat smell that permeated their coats… Again he shook these thoughts from his mind.  He held the animal at arm's length and waited for his cousin to return.

"Now will you look at this one…whoa!" 

Severus peered around the mare he was holding to see LeSal struggling to keep a very sporty looking mare under control.  It had a coat that gleamed like gold.

"This is Shaharazad," LeSal explained.

"Why don't we get them to the train?" Severus was becoming worried that the animals might kick someone, or worse, considering these were Magus Mares.  He ended up having to take the initiative, as LeSal seemed perfectly fine to stand there and talk mares.

"I went all the way to northern Iran for her," he babbled on. "You wouldn't believe how intense that card game was.  Wizards over there just aren't like they are here.  Never go to Iran."

_I don't plan on it_, Snape thought.  _No one in their right mind just ups and goes to Iran._

"And that one, the one you've got, that's Alexandra.  I got her smuggled in from a breeder in Chechnya only a year ago.  It's a pity you never came and visited me at Durmstrang.  I think you would have liked it."

Severus was avoiding this accusation.  He had been avoiding his cousin for the past ten years and it wasn't by the fault of LeSal either.  As he glanced sideways at LeSal's young face it felt like a knife were stabbing him inside.  That was what he had been avoiding: that and the mage's staff.

Regrets.

Absent mindedly, he patted the mare that he had been leading on the neck as it was taken away and led onto a boxcar. He looked up at a sign overhead: Platform 2 ½.

"So how were planning on getting to the Malfoy's?" LeSal asked. "I'm taking this train up to Wales where I can Apparate with the mares.  Would you mind coming along? It'd be easier if you'd take charge of one of them when we Disapparate."  

Severus only nodded.

"Good." LeSal knew this was the most of a response he was going to get.  "Now let's go get your ticket."

Ticket.  Yes, he already had one of those, didn't he? He dug into his pocket and pulled out the ticket.  LeSal leaned over. "Oh, no. I'm riding first class. We'll get that changed," and he snatched Severus' ticket.

_First class?_ LeSal was a teacher, and an unemployed one at that.  Where did he get the money to ride first class and ship two Magus Mares all the way from Russia? His questions were soon answered.

"I'd like to exchange this ticket and get a first class seat to Cardiff." He leaned on the ticket window and cast a sly smile to Severus.

"That'll be seven more sickles, sir," the ticket master informed.

"I'll have it charged," LeSal replied.

"To what account?"

"The Malfoy family. And it's for Salazar Snape."

This was very uncomfortable.  Severus pulled on his cousin's robes. "I'd rather not…"

"Oh, don't worry." He waved a hand nonchalantly. "Lucius won't mind. I'm giving him Alexandra and he said that I'm free to charge my travel expenses to his family account.  You've been invited to dinner tonight, so he won't think anything of it—besides, he rolling in money, it's not like he can't afford it." He swiped the first class ticket and handed it to Severus who took it reluctantly, as if it were dirty. LeSal stood back and took a good look at him. "You haven't said much. But then again, you were never one to talk much.  How about we board the dinner car and I'll have some drinks ordered: loosen up your mouth a bit."

This was going to be a long evening.

A/N: Not much really happened here. As I said, I'm letting Severus handle this.  I was hoping to have the dinner at the Malfoys in this chapter, but my muses whispered what was going on inside Sev's head and I found it interesting enough to write down.  I'm also getting a better view of LeSal as in "The Staff of Orkney" Harry only sees the face he puts on for his students throughout most of the story. And yes, I have started the second part to "Staff" but it'll be a while.  I've got a Civil War reenactment this weekend then next week it's back to school. L


End file.
